Unforgettable You
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: No matter what gets in my way, as long as there's still life in me. No matter what, remember, you know I'll always come for you.
1. Chapter 1

Alright, here it is! *big cheesy grin* My much promised story, Unforgettable You. This is my baby, and I am very excited to be posting it now. It was inspired by the absolutely beautiful song, Embraceable You, by Ella Fitzgerald. I also used the lyrics to the Nickelback song, I'd Come For You, here in this first chapter. This is going to be a huge Michael whumping story, and there will be lots of hurt/comfort. We'll see old faces and new ones, and maybe a new romance for Sam. So enjoy the first chapter of Unforgettable You!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Sundays were Fiona's favorite day of the week.

More times than not, they didn't have a job, and they could just relax. Well, relax as much as they could with the kind of lives they had. They usually slept in a little, and they spent the day lounging around and making love whenever they wanted to. Which was quite often.

Fiona grinned to herself as she retrieved a yogurt and tugged the lid off. Oh, yes, life was good at the moment. She could hear Michael singing off-key in the shower, and she grabbed a spoon before she made her way to his old green chair and sat down.

In the bathroom, Michael was grinning and singing to himself as he shampooed his hair. Lately things had just been…amazing. He and Fiona were getting along better than they had in a long time, and life just seemed to be right. Of course, the pessimist in him couldn't help but point out that this would be the perfect time for things to go terribly wrong, but he tried to ignore that voice.

_I was blindfolded, but now I'm seeing_

_My mind was closing, now I'm believing_

_I finally know just what it means to let someone in_

_To see the side of me that no one does or ever will_

_So if you're ever lost and find yourself all alone_

_I'd search forever just to bring you home_

_Here and now, this I vow_

Fiona dipped her spoon into her yogurt and brought it up to her mouth. Everything had been going so well lately, she was worried that it would all crumble at any moment. She tried to remind herself that it wouldn't happen, that they wouldn't let it.

Suddenly she had no appetite for yogurt. All she wanted was him. With a soft sigh, she set the yogurt aside. Then she got to her feet.

_By now you'd know that I'd come for you_

_No one but you, yes I'd come for you_

_But only if you told me to_

_And I'd fight for you_

_I'd lie, it's true_

_Give my life for you_

_You know I'll always come for you_

_You know I'll always come for you_

_No matter what gets in my way_

_As long as there's still life in me_

_No matter what, remember_

_You know I'll always come for you_

Slipping into the bathroom, Fiona quickly shed her clothes and pulled the shower curtain back. Then she stepped into the shower with Michael.

Michael turned around as Fiona joined him in the shower. "Excuse me, have we met?"

She playfully thumped his shoulder, then leaned up for a long, slow kiss.

He happily obliged, and as the hot water cascaded over their bodies, they connected in their favorite way.

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A few hours later, Fiona and Michael were in their bed, and Fiona was watching Michael as he slept peacefully. When they had first started sharing a bed after their reunion, she had noticed that he suffered from nightmares most every night. Sometimes she was awoken by soft whimpers, other times full-fledged screams. On good nights, a touch from her was often all that was needed to soothe him back into a peaceful sleep. On the bad nights, she would hold him and whisper into his ear, sometimes for hours. More than once she had received a busted lip or a bruised cheek for her efforts, and she always hated the guilty looks he wore the following day. It was those days when he treated her the best, and she always detested the fact that he did it out of guilt. She never blamed him for the bruises and blood. She refused to stand by and let him suffer, and if that meant the occasional ache in her face, then that was fine with her. But it never was okay with him.

In his sleep, Michael turned his head and snuggled into her bare shoulder. That was something else she noticed about him. When she first came to Miami and they reignited their relationship, he was only physically affectionate with her in bed or when it helped sell a cover. Nowadays, he was restrained, but he wasn't afraid to show affection to her when they were out in public or with friends. She couldn't help but note that he was particularly handsy when other men showed even the slightest interest in her. And even though she would scold him and tell him she wasn't his property, she couldn't deny that a part of her actually liked it. He had come a long way in the past few years, something she thought that she'd never see.

His hand drifted up her side, and the change in his breathing pattern alerted her to the fact that he was awake. She looked down and found his cobalt eyes, still heavy with a mixture of sleep and arousal, studying her intently. The gaze sent a flush creeping into her cheeks. "Michael…"

"Shh…" He cupped her hip with his large hand, pulling her even closer to him.

With a happy sigh, Fiona pushed Michael onto his back and straddled his waist. Then she rested her small hands on his broad shoulders, her nails lightly digging into his skin.

He encouraged her by grabbing her hips and squeezing firmly. No, he would never be able to get enough of this woman. His woman. He reached up and gently brushed her thick hair back.

Outside, clouds had gathered, blocking the sun and casting the loft into shadows. But neither Fiona nor Michael noticed it.

They were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything.

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The following morning, Michael awoke and reached out across the bed, looking to pull Fiona back into his arms and snuggle her. But her side of the bed was empty, and he frowned. "Fi?"

"Over here."

He raised his head and saw Fiona standing at the bar, fully dressed and eating a Spanish omelet. His heart clenched with a surge of surprising emotions, and he sat up in the bed, allowing the sheet to fall away from his naked form.

She smiled and unabashedly raked her gaze over his body. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." Sliding out of the bed, he grabbed a pair of boxers and slid them on, much to Fiona's disappointment. Then he sauntered over to the kitchen island and slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her slender waist.

Fiona grinned and leaned back into him, closing her eyes as he brushed her thick hair away and began kissing her neck. "Good morning to you, too."

He grinned against her neck and slid his hand under her shirt.

The front door of the loft suddenly opened, and Sam Axe groaned when he saw Michael and Fiona making out in the kitchen. "Hey, how about a little warning!"

Fiona growled, not untangling herself from Michael. "Get lost, Sam!"

"Hey, sister, I have every right to be here-"

Michael had to keep Fiona from lunging over the kitchen island at Sam.

Sam snickered and closed the door behind himself. "Be nice, sister. I come bearing a new job."

"I'll tell you where you can put your job…"

"Shh…" Michael kissed Fiona softly, then stepped away from her and started toward Sam. "What have you got, Sam?"

"It's pretty straightforward. My friend is being stalked."

"Has she called the police?"

"Yep. But you know how much help they are in these kinds of situations."

"Yeah, I know." He took the file from Sam's hands and opened it.

"Like I said, pretty straightforward. But the money is good, and she's a friend."

Michael looked over at Fiona, who nodded. He smiled. They had their own way of communicating without words, something they had developed years ago. Swinging his gaze back toward Sam, he held up the folder. "We'll do it."

Sam rubbed his hands together with a grin. "Great!"

Fiona sauntered over to them. "Was that all you needed, Sam?" she queried, wrapping her arms around Michael.

"Yeah, I guess." The older man looked confused. "Why?"

"Because…" She pressed her cheek against Michael's shoulder blade and played with the waist of his boxers.

"Ah, jeez…" Sam spun around and hurried to the door, shaking his head.

Fiona laughed against Michael's skin as Sam nearly ran out of the loft.

"That was unnecessary, Fi," Michael chastised her gently.

"Maybe, but it was fun." Her curious hand slipped past the waistband of his boxers, and she was rewarded with a sharp inhale from the man who had captured her heart.

After a few moments, Michael spun around and captured her lips with his. Then he reached down and lifted her into his arms with a wicked grin.

Fiona wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed, running her fingers through his thick hair. "Michael!"

His grin just widened as he carried her over to their bed. He deposited her gently onto the mattress, then quickly shed his boxers and joined her on the bed.

God, he loved her.

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Later that afternoon, Michael and Fiona joined Sam at Carlito's. They found him at his favorite table, talking to a young, innocent looking woman with dark hair and frightened blue eyes.

Sam looked up when he saw Fiona and Michael, and he motioned to them. "Abby, this is Michael, and that's Fiona. Guys, this is Abby Canton."

Michael and Fiona smiled at the young woman. "Hi, Abby." Michael pulled out Fiona's chair and waited for her to sit down before he sat between her and Sam.

"Hello. Sam says you can help me." Abby twisted her fingers absently.

"We're going to try," Fiona assured the younger woman.

"Yes, we are. But we need you to tell us exactly what happened." Michael removed his sunglasses, folding them before he tucked them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"I can do that," Abby said with a confident nod.

As she began to tell her story, Michael reached under the table and took Fiona's hand, rubbing her skin with his thumb.

After the meeting, Michael assured Abby that they would do everything they could. Reassured, she left the table, leaving Sam, Michael and Fiona to talk amongst themselves.

"So, what do you think?" Sam questioned, motioning for a fresh drink.

"I think we can handle this," Michael said confidently, casting a look at Fiona.

Fiona nodded her agreement. "We can."

"Great!" Sam enthused, sitting back in his chair.

Michael just grinned as he slid his sunglasses back into place.

Yes, they could certainly handle this.

To Be Continued...

A/N: There is a lot of action and angst to come, so hold onto your seats! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Stricken

Chapter two has arrived! It's slightly shorter than the first chapter, but there is a lot more action. I'm not quite used to writing that, so I'm a bit nervous. But I hope everyone will enjoy this update!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"You want a yogurt, Fi?"

Fiona looked up from the file she was reading over to see Michael standing by the bed, a yogurt in his hand. She smiled and took the offered yogurt. Then she sat up and crossed her legs, pulling the top off of the cup. "Thanks."

He sat down beside her, letting their sides touch. "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Maybe." He handed her a spoon, and she dipped it into the yogurt. "There's a guy that she works with who has a rap sheet as long as your arm. Stalking, drug possession, petty theft…"

"Sounds like the right pedigree. What's his name?" He took her spoon and stole a bite of the yogurt, ignoring the dangerous look she gave him.

She huffed, holding her yogurt closer to herself. "His name is Steve Holbrook."

Gently nudging her over, he sat down on the mattress with her. Then he peered over her shoulder at the file in her slender hand. "He does seem like a likely candidate." Leaning over, he nuzzled her neck lightly.

Fiona's eyes closed slowly. "Michael…"

He grinned, and the file slipped out of her hand and hit the floor.

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The next evening, Fiona watched Abby as she paced nervously around her living room. "Calm down, Abby. Everything is going to be fine."

"How do you know that?"

"Because this is what we do." Michael and Sam were outside in the shadows, waiting for Steve to make his appearance. Abby said there was always someone outside around ten p.m., right when she was winding down for the night. She would catch a glimpse of a shadow or hear the rustling of shrubs outside, but by the time she got out there, he would always be gone. So Michael and Sam were waiting for him, while Fiona stayed inside with Abby in case he escalated his behavior and tried to break in. "We have it under control."

As she said that, the phone on her hip began to vibrate. She swiftly grabbed it and brought it up to her ear. "Michael?"

"Everything looks good out here, Fi."

"Okay." She slid the phone back into her pocket, then gave Abby a reassuring smile. "Everything is fine outside."

"It is?"

"Yes." Reaching out, Fiona gently grasped Abby's arm and led her into the kitchen. "Why don't you get a drink of water-"

The eruption of gunfire and an ensuing fight interrupted her, and Fiona growled softly as Abby shrieked. Without hesitation, Fiona shoved the younger woman to the floor, out of harm's way. Then she grabbed her Walther from the holster at her ankle and ran toward the door.

As she exploded into the night air, the gunfire suddenly ceased. Fiona glanced around, her heart racing and adrenaline coursing through her body.

"Fiona!"

That was Sam's voice. A violent shudder went through her at the panic that laced his voice. Sam never panicked. Oh, God, something was wrong… She broke into a dead run toward Sam's voice, her gun raised and her finger resting on the trigger.

Around the corner, beside the house, she saw two figures. One was sprawled out on the ground, and the other was in a kneeling position beside the injured party. "Sam?"

Sam swung his gaze toward her, his normally friendly eyes filled with concern. "Fi! The son of a bitch got away!"

Fiona shoved her gun into the holster and fell to her knees beside Sam. Michael was on his back, unmoving and with his eyes closed. "What happened?" she snarled, her small hands instinctively moving over Michael's body.

"The son of a bitch got the drop on Mikey! He slammed Mike's head into the house. I hit him, but he must have been wearing a vest, cause he got away." He scrubbed his hand anxiously over his face.

Fiona's hands moved up to Michael's head, and her stomach rolled when she felt a long, jagged wound on the back of Michael's head. There was blood everywhere, but he was breathing and his heart was beating. "We have to get him out of here."

"What about Abby? This guy almost killed Mike. She's no match against the son of a bitch."

Growling angrily, Fiona ran her fingers through Michael's hair. "Help me get him to the loft. You can take the girl to Madeline's."

"Okay. Okay." Sam slid his hands under Michael, not wanting to argue with Fiona right then. "Let's do this."

Fiona ran her fingertip along the side of Michael's face, and she winced at the blood that already stained her hands.

Michael's blood.

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By the morning light, Fiona was curled up beside Michael in their bed. Sam had taken Abby over to Madeline's, and he had sent an old buddy over to the loft to check Michael over. Fiona had almost shot him, until she realized that he actually was someone that she could trust. It was very hard for her to stand back and place Michael's care into the hands of a stranger, but she had to do what was best for him.

The gash in the back of his head had taken more than a dozen stitches to close, and Sam's buddy, who introduced himself simply as Elias, had handed Fiona a bottle of painkillers along with a bagful of supplies needed to keep the injury clean and dry. He had also told her that the injury was severe enough to have a number of side effects, including nausea, double vision, mood swings and possibly temporary memory loss. All of those things seemed irrelevant to Fiona, though. As long as Michael was alive, they could deal with anything else that came their way.

Now she was snuggled into Michael's side, with her arm draped possessively over his waist and her head on his shoulder. She wasn't used to seeing him so still, and it was deeply unsettling. She resisted the urge to kick him awake several times during the night, despite Elias' warnings. She had to be patient.

Unfortunately, patient was not a word Fiona was accustomed to.

She snuggled closer to him, distracting herself. It wasn't very often that she was the care-taker. He was a stubborn man, after all. But when he woke up this time, she would ignore him when he would try to tell her that he was okay. She knew better.

Her phone began to vibrate nearby, but she simply reached over and turned it off. Everything else in the world could wait. Right now, he had her undivided attention, and it would stay that way for as long as necessary.

And she would make sure to kick his ass for getting himself into this in the first place, just as soon as he opened his eyes and she knew he was okay.

He had to be okay.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Bwhahaha. On a personal note, my dad found a kitten on our porch a couple of weeks ago. Sadly we believe she was abandoned, so we've decided to keep her. And since naming the pets always seems to fall to me, I have cleverly dubbed her Fiona. *cheesy grin* And she is totally living up to the name. She's fearless, wicked, and goes bonkers for no reason. LMAO. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and please let me know what ya'll think!


	3. What The Eyes Cannot See

After a couple of revisions (and dang FF not allowing me to log in) here is chapter three of Unforgettable You! Now, in the last chapter, one reviewer guessed that Michael's memory would be affected by the trauma, and someone else guessed that something else would happen. Well, here is the answer. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Four days passed in agonizing slowness, and Michael still remained unconscious.

Since Holbrook had gotten away, Sam had taken Abby to a more secure location, where he knew she would be completely safe. He occasionally showed up at the loft to check on his best friend, but he never stayed very long. Fiona suspected it was because he felt guilty for Michael being injured in the first place. It was ridiculous, but this was Sam.

Then there was Madeline. She came by every day, sometimes for hours on end just to sit with her son. Fiona welcomed the time and made the most of it by grabbing a quick shower and nap. It was easier that way, because she knew Madeline was with Michael and that nothing could happen to him while she and Fiona were in the apartment.

On the fourth night, Sam returned again, this time with food and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He let himself into the loft with his key, then dropped the duffel bag by the door. "Fi?"

Fiona looked up from the yogurt she was eating. "Hey, Sam."

Sam nodded toward the bed. "How's our boy?"

She had to smile at Sam's choice of words. "He's still not awake."

He came closer to the bed and held out a bag to Fiona. "I got you some dinner."

"Sam…"

"Fi, humor me."

Sighing, she took the bag and opened it. "Thanks, Sam." He had brought her dinner from her favorite Chinese restaurant, and she had to smile.

"You're welcome, sister." Sam dropped into the empty chair on the other side of Mike's bed, the chair Madeline normally occupied. As he got comfortable, his gaze fell on his best friend's passive expression. His stomach started to sink. How had he let this happen?

Fiona noticed Sam's expression. "Sam? What is it?"

Clearing his throat, Sam shook his head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

She was quiet for a long while. "Sam…this wasn't your fault."

"What?"

"This isn't your fault. Michael… he should have been more careful."

He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "No, Fi. I was supposed to have his back. I didn't, and Holbrook got the drop on him. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't, Sam. And if you don't stop moping, I will shoot you."

For the first time in days, he smiled just a little. "Just try it, sister."

"I won't try. I will."

And in that moment, Sam knew that he and Fiona were okay. They just needed Mikey to be okay, too.

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The entire loft was bathed in darkness. Beside the bed, Sam had fallen asleep in his chair. His head was bent at an uncomfortable angle that was certain to leave him with a crick in his neck in the morning, and his legs were stretched out in front of him as he snored.

In the bed, Fiona was lying on her side, with her back against Michael's side and his arm under her head. Her lips were parted slightly, and wisps of her hair fell into her face.

A low groan rumbled through Michael's chest, instantly waking both Sam and Fiona.

Sam jerked upright in his chair, groaning softly, while Fiona sat up in the bed and watched Michael's face intently.

"Open your eyes, Michael." Fiona's voice was tender and soft as she smoothed her hand over his forehead and cheek.

He groaned again and shifted his hips. His hand came up and settled against the side of his head.

Sam leaned closer to the bed, watching his friend's expression closely. "Come on, brother. Wake up."

Fiona held her breath as Michael's eyelids fluttered, then finally opened. "Michael…" She ran her fingers gently through his thick hair.

Sam frowned as he got a glimpse of Michael's eyes. They weren't focusing correctly, and he hesitated before waving his hand in the line of Michael's vision. "Fi…"

Fiona's heart began pounding against her ribcage. "Michael, how are you feeling?"

Michael blinked slowly, but his eyes still didn't focus. "Head hurts…"

"I'm not surprised. You took a nasty hit to your head," Sam explained, slowly moving his hand away from Michael's face. "I'm going to get you some water." He got to his feet and headed into the kitchen.

Fiona moved closer to Michael, gently pulling his hand away from his face and holding it between her own. "Thank God you're awake." She gently kissed his knuckles.

He turned his head in the direction of her voice. She sounded so sweet and concerned…

Sam came back with a bottle of water, and he handed it to Fiona.

With a smile, Fiona took the water bottle and pulled the top off. Then she held it to Michael's dry lips. "Take a sip, Michael."

He gladly obliged and took a few sips of the cool liquid. Once he was finished, he sighed deeply and snuggled into the pillows.

Fiona set the water aside and watched Michael carefully. Her eyes kept drifting to his, and she felt sick. What if he couldn't see? She was afraid to ask, but she didn't have to.

"I can't see," Michael murmured, his voice oddly calm.

Both Sam and Fiona's hearts sank. Sam spoke first.

"You can't see, brother?"

"No."

Sam looked at Fiona. "Elias said this could happen. He said it would probably be temporary."

Fiona nodded, but her mind was already going over different plans. If he couldn't see, he was going to be very vulnerable. She or Sam would need to be with him at all times, and they would not be taking any cases for a while. He would need to be protected, whether he thought so or not. Until his sight came back, their life would be even more dangerous than normal.

Practically reading her mind, Sam murmured, "Where do you want to take him?"

"I'm not sure yet." She was almost reluctant to take him anywhere. At least here, he knew where he was and could probably get around with less assistance. They could protect him here very well, and he would be safe.

Getting to his feet, Sam retrieved his phone. "I'm going to call Maddie and Elias. Maybe he has something that can help."

"Go ahead." Fiona moved closer to Michael and encouraged him to drink more of the water. This was going to be hard, but it was Michael. She would never abandon him.

He took a few more sips of the water before turning away from it. His head was still pounding, and he was starting to feel a little nauseous.

Fiona noticed the look on his face. "Are you going to be sick, Michael?" She had always been in tune with his body, and right now was no exception.

He nodded slightly.

"Okay…" She quickly slid out of the bed, then helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and she slid her arm around his waist, supporting him.

He leaned into her, and together they made their way to the bathroom. Just as he reached the toilet, he fell to his knees and started to heave.

"Michael…" Fiona sighed and sank to her knees behind him. "It's okay." She placed her hand on his back and gently rubbed his tense muscles.

Finally there was nothing in his stomach left to lose, and he raised his head, leaning back slightly.

Without hesitation, Fiona pulled him back against her and held him tight. "Everything is going to be okay," she whispered, kissing his temple.

"No, it's not," he groaned softly.

"Why?"

Sam appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, and the sight in front of him broke his heart. Fiona was holding Michael in her arms like she would never let him go. But there was a strange look on his face.

Fiona looked up at Sam. "What did Elias say?"

"He'll be here as soon as he can. I told Maddie to wait until the morning to come." He leaned against the door and watched his best friend.

Fiona nodded slowly. If Maddie came in the morning, they would have more information for her and be more able to handle her. Without thinking, she kissed Michael's head again. Whenever he was sick or injured (after she kicked his ass for being stupid and getting himself hurt in the first place) she was always much more affectionate with him. He was the same with her whenever she was injured or sick.

He tensed when she kissed him, and she frowned. "What's wrong, Michael?"

Michael pulled away from her slightly, and with his next words, Sam and Fiona felt the bottom fall out from under them.

"Who are you people?"

Sam almost laughed. "You're kidding, right, Mikey?"

Michael shook his head, then turned toward the source of the voice belonging to the woman holding him. She sounded kind, and the concern in her voice told him that she wouldn't hurt him. He knew instinctively that he could trust her, whoever she was. But there was also something in his heart that told him she was important to him. He needed her, and he wasn't even sure why.

Fiona looked up at Sam, stunned. "Michael, if this is some kind of joke…"

But the look on her lover's face told her that this was no joke.

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To her credit, Fiona managed to hold it together until after Michael was settled in his bed and sleeping again. Sam watched her closely the entire time, feeling sick.

Once Michael was settled, Fiona backed away from the bed and held her hand to her mouth. He couldn't remember them. He was blind, and he couldn't remember who she was. Her stomach churned anxiously, threatening to rebel against her at any moment.

Sam rubbed his temple, desperate for a very strong drink. This was more frightening than any mission or situation. Mikey had lost his sight and his memory. If they weren't extremely careful, things could get even worse than they already were. "We can't tell anyone else about this."

"I know that," Fiona snapped. If the wrong person found out about this… She didn't even want to think of what could happen. She couldn't even see letting him out of the loft. He wouldn't recognize any enemies, and he might not even know how to use a gun. This was a very precarious situation, and the wrong move could get Michael killed. She would not let that happen. She would sooner die.

Reaching out, Sam squeezed Fiona's arm reassuringly. "Elias will be here soon. He'll know what to do."

Fiona's eyes suddenly filled with distrust. "Are you sure we can trust him, Sam?"

"Absolutely." He would never bring someone around that he didn't trust. Especially now, when Michael was so… for lack of a better word, vulnerable. Michael was his best friend, and it was his job to keep him safe, even if Mikey couldn't remember who they were.

Fiona started to brush off his hand, but she didn't. For once, she was going to allow him to comfort her. She had no idea how they were going to handle this.

All she knew was that Michael needed them, and they had to keep him safe.

They had to.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Like I said, I really hope this isn't cliched or overdone. In a lot of fandoms, this has been done repeatedly, but I don't think I've seen it done here, and I'm pretty excited. Thanks for reading, and please review, cause we are so far from over... *evil laughter*


	4. What The Heart Knows

Update! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Within the hour, Elias arrived at the loft. Sam and Fiona decided not to call Maddie until after Elias completed his examination of Michael. That way they would actually have something to tell her.

While Elias examined Michael, Fiona stayed beside the bed, her Walther in her hand. Sam trusted Elias, but Fiona's need to keep Michael safe overwhelmed her desire to trust Sam's judgment. Elias examined Michael thoroughly, then joined Sam in the kitchen.

Sam opened a fresh beer and offered one to Elias, who declined. "How is he?"

"The blow to the head you said he received was more severe than I expected. As you already know, it affected his vision and his memory."

"How long will that last?" Sam questioned, taking a long swig of his beer.

"It's hard to say. It might be a matter of days. Or this could be permanent."

That had Sam putting down his bottle of beer. "Permanent?"

"I know how bad it sounds, Sam. But he could have died."

Letting out a sigh, Sam ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah." He knew how lucky they were that he was still alive.

Elias reached out and grasped his friend's shoulder. "Right now, the best suggestion I have for you is to just be patient. You and Fiona can play songs, tell him stories about his past, and just try to act as normally as you possibly can around him."

Sam snorted. "Right."

Elias finally smiled. "I said try."

"Well, thanks, Elias." Sam shook hands with his old friend.

"No problem, Sam. Call me if anything changes. Otherwise I'll be back next week to check on his progress."

"You got it."

Elias left the kitchen, casting a glance at Fiona before he left the loft.

Once he was gone, Fiona sighed and sat down on the bed. Michael was curled up on his side, and she wasn't sure if he was awake or not. He had barely spoken except to answer the doctor's questions. How were they going to handle this? He was not a well man.

Sam crossed the floor and dropped into the empty chair by the bed. "Is he awake?"

Fiona looked Michael over. "I don't think so."

"Good. He needs the rest." He leaned back in the chair. "But you and I have to talk."

Fiona nodded and sat up straighter in the bed. "What are we going to do?" She already had a plan of sorts, but she had to consider what Sam was thinking, as well. To get Michael through this, they would have to act as a team (just like they always did) and keep him safe.

"Elias said we should tell Mikey stories and play songs. It might trigger his memory."

Fiona was quiet for a very long time. "And what if it doesn't?"

"I don't know, Fi."

That scared her more than anything.

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By the time the sun came up over the Miami horizon, Sam and Fiona had both fallen asleep. Fiona was curled up beside Michael, and Sam was in the chair by the bed.

A loud knock on the front door of the loft startled them both awake. Instinctively, Fiona produced her Walther and made her way to the door, while Sam guarded the bed. Without even speaking, they each knew what to do, and they were both reassured by that. As long as they could do that, maybe they would get through this.

Fiona crept to the door and opened it carefully, her finger on the trigger of the gun.

Madeline Westen stepped into the loft, torn between disapproval and relief at the sight of the gun in Fiona's hand. At least she could rest easier knowing her son was well protected. "You can put the gun away, Fiona."

"We weren't expecting you so early, Madeline." But Fiona tucked the gun away.

"My son is hurt. You're lucky I didn't come sooner." Her expression softened slightly at the hurt in Fiona's eyes. "How is he?"

"Madeline…"

"Don't do that, Fiona. Just tell me how he is."

Fiona was quiet for several moments. "He was hit in the head, and it caused him to lose his sight and his memory."

The older woman's mouth fell open slightly. "What…?"

"He can't see, and he doesn't remember any of us."

Getting to his feet, Sam approached Fiona and Madeline. "Fi, I need to go get a shower and fresh clothes. I'll be back in an hour." He figured that would give Fiona enough time to help Madeline sort through all of this.

He left the loft, and Madeline watched Fiona intently.

Fiona shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

Shaking her head, Madeline made her way over to the bed. Fiona trailed behind her, unsettled.

They reached the bed, and Madeline watched her son sleep for several minutes as she tried to reconcile Fiona's words in her mind. He had no memory or sight. What if his memory never returned? What about his job? What about all the people they helped on a regular basis? There was a lot to think about, and no time to prepare. Then a single thought came to her mind. She looked at Fiona.

Fiona looked at Madeline curiously. "What?"

"Fiona… Have you given any thought about what you'll do if he doesn't regain his memory?"

The younger woman hesitated. "I… not really."

"You'll have to start over." A sort of happy tone came into her voice. "You love each other. Maybe…" She tried to put it as delicately as she could. "Maybe you shouldn't tell him what he does."

"What?"

"Think about it, honey. He has a dangerous job. If he doesn't remember, you can start over fresh." Madeline supported her son's career, but she and Fiona both had the same feelings about it. They were alike in many ways.

Fiona entertained that thought briefly before shaking her head. "No. I couldn't do that to him." She wouldn't deny that the idea thrilled her. They could start over somewhere new, just the two of them. No more international assassins, no more dangerous missions and no more wasted nights wondering if he would be returned to her in a pine box. She knew that she could give up her life for him, but she also knew how big a part his job played in his life. It was such a huge part of who he was, and she couldn't take that from him, even if there was a chance that he would never remember it.

Madeline sighed softly. "I understand, sweetheart. But what are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure yet. The most important thing right now is keeping him safe." There were countless enemies who wanted him dead, and if even one person found out about this, he would die. She wouldn't let that happen. She couldn't.

"You're right." Madeline looked at her sleeping son, and she couldn't resist running her hand through his dark, thick hair. "Why don't you go get a shower? I'll stay with him."

"Madeline…"

"Honey, go." The older woman's voice was gentle but insistent.

Finally Fiona stood, but before she walked away, she leaned over and kissed Michael's forehead gently. Before the blow to his head, he never would have slept through a kiss from her. She felt horribly unsettled as she finally made her way toward the bathroom.

Once inside, she closed the door and locked it. Then she started the shower, turning the hot water on full blast. As she shed her clothes and stepped beneath the pulsing spray, a tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another. But the hot water washed them away.

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When Michael awoke again, he was disappointed when darkness still greeted him. He could hear the soft breathing of a woman, along with an unfamiliar clicking sound directly to his right. He frowned.

"Michael?"

There was that voice again. So kind and warm, and as gentle as a summer breeze. He still couldn't remember the owner of the voice, but without even consciously choosing to, he trusted her.

He heard a shuffling sound, followed by springs squeaking as the bed dipped beneath them. Then a gentle hand brushed his hair back.

"Who are you?" he whispered before he could stop himself.

There was a long pause. "I'm Fiona." Her voice was strained as she spoke.

"Are you my wife?" He guessed that she had to be. Her touch was too tender, too intimate for her to be a sister. She stirred something intense in him, something he couldn't understand.

"We're…" How could she explain what they were, everything that they had been through together? "I'm your girlfriend. We live together."

He seemed satisfied with that explanation. "What about the man I heard?"

"Sam?" Her fingers continued moving slowly through his hair. "Sam is your best friend. You two have known each other for a long time."

He nodded. "What about my family?"

"Well, your mom lives close by. You're closer to her than you used to be. And your brother, Nate, lives in Las Vegas with his wife, Ruth, and your nephew, Charlie. We see them a couple of times a year." More if Nate got himself into trouble with money or loan sharks.

"And my dad?"

She had hoped they would be able to avoid the subject of his dad, at least for a little while longer. "He died when you were younger."

"Oh."

Fiona finally pulled her hand away. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything in a while."

"Sure." He listened as she slid off of the bed and walked across the floor. Since he was unable to see, he tried to envision her in his mind's eye. She had a kind voice and a gentle touch, but no images appeared in his mind. Frustrated, he gave up and sat upright in the bed.

Fiona returned to the bed moments later, a cup of blueberry yogurt in her hand and a spoon in the other. "Let's try this." She sat on the edge of the bed beside him and dipped the spoon into the cup.

He caught a whiff of blueberries, and his stomach grumbled loudly.

Fiona laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. "At least your appetite is still there." Pulling the spoon out of the yogurt, she brought it up to his mouth. "Open up."

He obliged, and a grin lit up his features as the cool treat hit his tongue. "Wow."

"It's your favorite." Fiona offered him another spoonful.

As he accepted the next bite, something made him pause. A shimmer of a memory flitted across his mind. There was a beautiful woman with long auburn hair, sea green eyes, and sweet lips that were parted mid-laugh. The image made his heart swell, but a split-second later, it was gone. Frustration filled him, and his smile disappeared.

Fiona frowned. "Michael? What is it?"

"Nothing." He took another bite of yogurt, and Fiona was grateful that he couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Aww, poor Fiona and Michael. But of course, the trauma is only starting... *evil laughter* Thanks for reading, and please review!


	5. Another Point Of View

An update! But I want to take just a moment to thank everyone who reviewed the new chapter of Moments In Time and said all those kind words. I appreciate all of them! We're just thankful that no one was killed or seriously injured during the tornadoes. And to make up for the gap between updates, I tried to make this chapter even longer than usual. Lots of meat and potatoes stuff. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Why haven't we gone outside?"

Fiona almost choked on the yogurt she was eating. It had been three days since Michael really became aware of what was going on, and in those three days everyone had settled into a routine of sorts. Sam would come over first thing in the morning, giving Fiona a break to take a shower or run down to the convenience store around the corner for more yogurt and beer. Madeline would show up sometime around noon with what she proclaimed to be actual food, and she would sit down and talk with Michael. Fiona was impressed by how calm and normal Madeline acted, given the circumstances. Madeline would usually stay until just after dinner, then she would head home. By the time Sam left, Michael would be asleep, and Fiona would check all of the doors and windows before crawling into bed with Michael. It was a strange routine, but it worked for them. They did not take Michael outside because he still had no idea who he was or what he did for a living, and he would be defenseless against anyone who wanted to cause him harm. Fiona refused to take any chances. How could she explain that to him?

"Because…this is a bad neighborhood, and you aren't feeling like yourself yet." That was the half-truth.

"Oh."

They were sitting on the bed together. He was at the head, reclined against a stack of pillows. She was at the foot, absently disassembling and reassembling her beloved Walther, half-hoping that the sound would trigger something in Michael's clouded mind.

"Tell me about us."

Startled, she almost dropped her gun. But to her credit, she recovered quickly. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Everything…" she mused. "That's a lot of history."

He smiled. None of his memory had returned, but he knew that he cared very deeply for this woman.

"Okay…" Putting her Walther away, Fiona scooted up to the head of the bed and settled beside Michael. "We met in Ireland fifteen years ago."

"We've been together fifteen years?"

She chuckled lightly, and he delighted in the sound. "Not exactly. Our relationship has been…complicated."

"Complicated?"

To say the least… "Yes. Our…work kept us apart a lot." Well, that part was definitely true, at least on his behalf.

"Our work? What do we do?"

She had been hoping to put this off for as long as possible. What could she tell him? That he was a burned spy trying to get back in the government's good graces and helping people in his spare time? How would he absorb that information? "We both have government jobs," she finally supplied.

He seemed satisfied, at least for now, with that response. "So… we live together, and we're dating?"

"I think we're beyond dating, Michael." They didn't use labels, because there wasn't a label for what they were. He was her lover, her shoulder to lean on, her defender and her best friend. She was his protector, his confidant and the hand he reached for in the deepest part of the night. They completed each other in ways that no other person could even dream of doing.

A small smile tugged at his handsome mouth. "I like the way you say that."

"Say what?"

"My name." He leaned closer to her, reveling in the warmth of her body.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, drawing him into her side. "Michael…"

His hand found her leg, and after only a brief hesitation, he ran his palm along her soft skin.

Goosebumps raised up on her skin. "What are you doing…?"

"Touching you…" His lips found the soft hollow of her neck and began exploring.

She wanted so badly to lose herself in his touch, but she had to stop it. Reaching down, she closed her hand around his curious fingers. "Michael, we can't."

"Why not? We're together." There was a pout to his lips, one that Fiona was very familiar with.

"Because…"

Finally he pulled away. "Because I'm blind and lost my memory?"

"That's part of it."

He let out a weary sigh. "What if my memory never returns?"

She had refused to let herself even contemplate that outcome. Even if he never regained his memory, the government would still refuse to let him travel out of state. He wouldn't be able to protect himself from the enemies of his past. If he was lucky, and the higher-ups actually believed that he had lost his memory, they might give him a new identity and relocate him. A cold knot formed in her stomach at that thought. What about her? There was no way they would give a former IRA member and trained guerilla warfare expert a nice little house in the suburbs with the man she loved. No, they would sooner throw her into a dark hole in Guatamala and throw away the key. Either way, Michael was in danger until he regained his vision and memory.

He sat beside her, turned slightly toward her voice, and waited patiently for her answer.

"If…" she started carefully. "If you don't regain your memory… We'll figure something out then."

His expression told her that he wasn't quite as certain, but she quickly changed the subject.

"Why don't I tell you how we wound up in Miami?"

"Okay."

"I was in New York five years ago, helping an old friend, when I received a call from a maid who worked in a Miami motel. She said that you had been unconscious for a couple of days, and she was concerned, so she went through your pockets and found your wallet. I was listed as your emergency contact, so she called me." She watched his handsome face as she weaved her tale. Next came the more difficult details, and she was careful to edit what she told him. "I flew down and tracked you down to this rundown little motel. You were still unconscious, and it looked like you had been in a bad fight."

"I fight?"

"You later told me that you were very drunk." Okay, so that wasn't entirely truthful, but there would be time for that later. "I took care of you for a full day before I finally woke you up with a boot to your ribs."

"You _kicked_ me?"

She laughed, and any confusion or upset he might have felt was washed away. "You are an incredibly stubborn man, Michael. A kiss wouldn't work."

"Did you try?"

She thought about that long and hard. Of course she had been tempted to kiss him awake that particular day. She hadn't seen him in years, and when she'd gotten that call, her only thought was to get to him. It didn't matter that he'd left her in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye note. All that mattered was that he was hurt, and he could very well die. And when she saw him lying in that bed, wounded and alone and desperately in need of protection, her every instinct had screamed at her to go to him and do just that. But she hadn't.

"No, I didn't. The kicking worked very well."

"I guess it would have."

Fiona reached out and brushed his hair back. "Don't pout, Michael. You've told me on several occasions that I've made up for it many times over."

"I have?" Instinctively he leaned into her warm touch.

Her free hand came up and gently cradled his head. "Yes." She kissed his forehead. "No matter what happens, Michael, you're safe with me."

He couldn't help marveling at how able she was to read his mood. He was still leery of this whole situation. He knew that he liked and trusted the man who called himself Sam, and the woman who said she was his mother. But with Fiona, he felt completely safe. He trusted her without reservation, and he found himself wanting to be close to her at all times.

When he didn't respond, she drew him into a protective embrace and rested her head against his. "We'll get through this, Michael," she swore fiercely.

He leaned into her embrace, not saying a word. She sounded so determined, so sure of herself…

"Do you believe me?" The question was so soft, he almost missed it.

"Yes."

And that was all they needed to know.

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When Sam came back to the loft, he saw that Michael was sleeping in his bed. He searched the loft until he found Fiona standing in the kitchen, polishing a throwing dagger. "Hey, Fi."

Fiona looked up from her dagger. "Sam."

"Is Mikey okay?"

Although she knew he meant nothing deeper by it, she felt her hackles raise up. "Of course he is."

"Easy, sister. I just noticed he was sleeping, that's all." He placed several bags of Chinese food on the counter. "You hungry?"

Slowly she relaxed. "I suppose I should eat something." She began sorting through the cartons of rice and sweet and sour chicken.

"Great." Sam reached for an egg roll. "So how's our boy been doing?"

"He asked about our past earlier."

"What did you tell him?"

"Not much." But he had seemed satisfied with what she did tell him. "I didn't want to overwhelm him."

"What are we going to do if he doesn't regain his memory anytime soon?"

Fiona looked around the loft. What was once so cozy, familiar and easy to defend suddenly seemed like a huge liability. They really needed to be in a place where no one would think to look for him. But at the same time, she was reluctant to move him anywhere. He seemed comfortable, and taking him outside greatly increased the chance that someone from his past would see him. That was a risk she was not willing to take. "I don't know yet, Sam."

He finished off his egg roll before speaking again. "There's going to be risks everywhere, Fi. Whether we move him or stay here, there's a chance of danger."

Her slender shoulders slumped. "I know this, Sam."

Sam gave the loft a once-over. "It wouldn't be too hard to make this place more secure. A few more locks, maybe move the bed against the wall…"

His voice rang in her ears, but she barely understood the words.

_Michael, come back to me._

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The next morning, Fiona awoke suddenly in the bed she shared with Michael. Sam had decided to stay the night, and he was snoring softly as he lounged in the chair a few feet from the bed. At first, Fiona wasn't certain what had disturbed her sleep. Sam's snoring never bothered her before.

She started to lie back down, her hand reaching across the bed for Michael. But all she found was an empty expanse of bed where he should have been, and panic started to take hold. She was not the kind of woman to panic, except when it came to him. She could kill a man, but with Michael… she couldn't even begin to explain what she felt with him.

"Michael?" Trying to keep her concern under control, Fiona slid out of the bed and started to search. First she checked the bathroom, in case he was using the toilet or taking a shower. But she didn't hear water running, and when she pushed the door open, the room was empty. Her panic intensified as she went into the kitchen. "Michael?"

He was nowhere in the loft.

By the time she realized he was gone, panic was overwhelming her. She went to Sam's chair and shook him awake. "Sam!"

He shot up in the chair, reaching for the gun he kept strapped to his ankle. "What is it, Fi? You okay?"

"I can't find Michael."

"What are you talking about, Fi?"

"I can't find Michael!" she repeated, her voice increasing in volume.

Sam got to his feet and did a quick check of the loft. Just as Fiona had said, Michael was nowhere within the confines of the loft.

Fiona looked afraid. "Where the hell could he have gone, Sam?"

"I don't know." Sam reached for his phone. "I'm going to call Maddie."

"You don't think he could have gotten that far, do you?"

"He has to be somewhere, Fi."

Frustrated, Fiona grabbed her keys and went to the front door of the loft. If she had to drive around all of Miami, she would find Michael. He couldn't have gotten far.

Pulling the door open, she was surprised and deeply relieved to see Michael sitting on the stairs that led up to their loft. She poked her head back inside. "He's here, Sam!" Then she closed the door and joined Michael on the stairs. "Michael?"

He heard the fear in her voice, and he felt guilty for having caused it. "I'm sorry… I just needed some air."

Her arm went around his shoulders. "You can't do that, Michael. It's not safe for you out here." Her heart was still pounding ruthlessly against her ribcage.

He looked frustrated. "Why isn't it safe? Why can't I sit on these stairs in the fresh air and just think?" he demanded.

"Because… there are people out here who could hurt you very badly if they chose to."

"Why would they choose to, Fiona?"

She was quiet for a long time. "Because of our work."

"I thought you said we worked for the government."

"We do. We've also made enemies. Enemies who would think nothing of killing you if they found out about your injuries."

He hadn't considered that, and without thinking he leaned into her.

She kissed his head softly. "It wasn't fair of me, to try to keep you locked up in the loft. But Michael, I'm just trying to keep you safe. You're very vulnerable right now."

Sighing, he nodded. "Maybe we should go back inside."

Now she felt guilty. She stood up, then took his hand and led him back inside, where Sam was waiting with a relieved look on his face.

Michael heard the door close with a heavy thud, and he missed the warmth of the sun.

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Back outside, an older man with graying hair stood by the Caddy that was parked by the building. He had been listening to the conversation without being noticed, and he began to hum to himself as he walked away from the building.

But he wouldn't stay gone for long. No, he wouldn't be gone long at all.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Ooh, a new POV! What do you guys think? Friend or old foe? Let me know what you think in a review! Thanks for reading!


	6. Relentless

Fair warning, this chapter ends with a cliffhanger! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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After the scare Michael gave Fiona and Sam when he slipped out of the loft without their knowing, Fiona watched him like a hawk. She did not let him out of her sight for anything, and though he didn't say a word, Sam was concerned. He knew that she couldn't keep up what she was doing, but he understood completely why she was doing it. She was only concerned for his safety and well-being. But there had to be a limit, and she was pushing it.

"Why don't I take Mike to his mom's?"

Fiona jerked her head up and glared at Sam. Three days had passed since Michael slipped out of the loft and took two years off of her life. They were in the kitchen, and Fiona was cleaning her Walther. But at Sam's suggestion, she put the gun down on the counter.

Sam held his hands up in a non-threatening manner. "Hey, take it easy. I'm just worried about him."

"We talked about this, Sam. It's too dangerous to take him out of the loft."

"I know that it could be dangerous, but between the two of us, I'm sure we could get him safely to his mom's and back. It would probably do him a lot of good, too." Michael had been quiet and subdued almost every time Sam came to see him, and it was disheartening for Sam. He understood that Michael really wasn't himself, but he had been hoping that he would snap out of it soon. It didn't look like that was going to happen.

"And what if someone sees him?" Fiona demanded. "What if one of our old associates see him?"

"Fi, if they just saw him, they wouldn't know what's going on." Just looking at him, no one would know that his memory was damaged or that he couldn't see. His eyes hadn't been damaged, so Elias hadn't felt the need to cover his eyes to protect them. By all appearances, Michael looked perfectly fine and completely normal. "They would have to talk to him to know what was going on."

Fiona hesitated. Sam had a point. The only way anyone would know something was wrong with Michael was if they spoke with him.

"You know I'm right," Sam continued gently. "We wouldn't let anyone get close enough to him to realize anything's wrong."

"But…"

"This could be good for him. I'm worried about him, Fi."

"So am I." Fiona sighed, pushing her auburn hair back. "How are we going to do this?"

Sam finally smiled.

"First, we talk to Mikey."

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"Michael?"

Michael turned his head in the direction of Fiona's voice. They were in a car, heading to his mother's home, according to Fiona. He was in the backseat, Fiona was beside him, and Sam was driving the car. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were okay."

He was getting tired of that question, but he tried not to let it show. She was only concerned about him. "I'm fine."

Satisfied, Fiona leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. Absently her hand settled over Michael's. After talking with him at the loft, she and Sam had bundled him up and loaded him into the Charger. Before leaving, they called Madeline, who was thrilled that they wanted to bring Michael over.

She knew that this was a good thing, that Michael was perfectly safe with her. And yet, something nagged at her. Under any other circumstances, she would have taken Michael straight back to the loft. But they were going to Madeline's. Sam was with them, and they were both armed. Blood would be spilled before she allowed any more harm to come to Michael.

So why did she feel so sick?

They finally arrived at Madeline's, and while Sam did a quick sweep of the area, Fiona helped Michael out of the car and led him into his mother's home. Sam followed them moments later.

Madeline was waiting just inside, and she lit up when she saw her son. "Michael…" Without hesitation, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly.

Michael tensed in her embrace. There wasn't a lot that he was sure of, but one of the things he knew was that the only person whose touch he didn't dislike was Fiona's. In fact, he craved her touch. Finally Madeline released him, and he couldn't help reaching for Fiona. Was it like this before he lost his memory? He had to hope that it was.

Fiona took his hand when he reached for her. She saw the hurt expression Madeline wore, and she felt badly. But her first priority was Michael. "Something smells delicious, Madeline."

"Thanks." Madeline reached for her cigarettes. "I ordered in." She lit up and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly.

The smell hit Michael's nose, and he frowned.

Fiona squeezed his hand reassuringly. She would explain all of that later.

"Maddie, I need to do a perimeter search," Sam told the older woman, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Why?"

"We want to be safe," Fiona explained as Sam left to search the house. With Michael's condition, they couldn't be too safe.

"Safe from what?"

"Some bad people," Michael mumbled, pulling his hand away from Fiona's. He tried to take a step, but realized belatedly that he had no idea where he was going. So he stood there, his cheeks burning.

Giving Madeline a pointed look, Fiona slid her arm around Michael's waist. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea…"

"Nonsense, Fiona. I have lunch. Stay for a while."

Fiona could tell that Michael was uncomfortable and lost, and she was torn between the mother and son. But Michael came first. He always would. "Come with me, Michael." She led him down the hall, into his old bedroom. Once they were inside and the door was shut behind them, she guided him to sit on his old bed. Then she knelt down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees.

Instinctively he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.

Fiona breathed softly and ran her fingers through his hair. "Maybe we shouldn't have done this."

He relaxed at her gentle touch. He was still tense, but she had a way of calming him that she must have learned from years of experience.

"We can go back to the loft. Your mom will understand."

"No," he sighed. "We can stay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He was startled when she kissed him, but he quickly settled into the kiss and deepened it. Even without his memory, his hands and mouth seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Fiona seemed to agree.

A sudden crash forced them apart, and Fiona instinctively reached for the gun strapped to her ankle at the same moment her phone went off. She grabbed it and looked at the screen. A text message from Sam sent a shiver down her spine.

_Someone's in the house. Hide with Mike. I'll get Maddie._

Swearing softly, Fiona grabbed Michael and shushed him as she dragged him to his closet. She flung the door open and pushed him inside. "Don't make a sound until Sam or I come for you," she whispered fiercely. "Do you understand?"

He nodded, obviously afraid.

She leaned forward and kissed him, then shut the door just as the bedroom door was flung open. Fiona swung her gun toward the door and waited. But no one walked in.

Instead, a small canister was rolled into the room, and her eyes widened. With a growl, she dove forward and tried to kick it back out of the room. But as her foot came into contact with the canister, a hissing noise followed by smoke erupted. Fiona tried to cover her mouth and nose, but within moments she was dizzy from the effects of the gas. She sank to her knees as a man came into the room with a gas mask on. She didn't recognize him, but panic engulfed her when he went straight to the closet. She tried to get up.

"No!"

Her knees wouldn't cooperate, and she could only watch helplessly as the man dragged Michael out of the closet.

"Get your damn hands off of him!" she screamed, her voice slurred.

There was laughter, mixed with Michael's frightened voice as Fiona's awareness faded from her grasp.

"Fiona, help me!"

Her head hit the floor. "Michael…"

"Fiona!"

And she knew no more.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Bwhahah. Obviously the ending was a throwback to Long Way Back (my favorite ep ever!) and I really enjoyed writing it. *more evil laughter* Thanks for reading, and please review!


	7. Incomplete

A surprise update! And this is the longest chapter to date. The kidnapper is revealed, old associates show up, and of course angry Fi makes an appearance! LOL. I felt particularly evil writing this because I am severely sunburned and felt the need to make others suffer. LMAO. Also, there are lots of references to some of the best episodes. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Michael!"

Fiona shot upright, her chest heaving and her hands frantically searching for Michael. Somehow she was in her bed at the loft, and for a moment she crazily thought it had all been a dream. Michael was safe.

Then she saw Sam's face.

"Fi, thank God you're okay." He got up from the chair he'd occupied for the past couple of hours. He had been running into the house through the back door when he heard the screeching tires, and he had found Fiona unconscious on the floor. He had picked up her disturbingly light body and carried her out to the Charger. Madeline had been in the kitchen, unharmed, and she had followed Sam outside. Without a word, she had gotten into the passenger's seat while Sam carefully laid Fiona in the backseat. The drive back to the loft had been tense to say the least. But when they had gotten there, Sam had carried Fiona up to the loft and laid her in her bed, then proceeded to wait.

Now she was awake, and he could get some answers. "What happened?"

Fiona sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I was with Michael when I got your text. I managed to get him into the closet, but someone threw a gas can into the room… He had a mask on, and I couldn't…I couldn't stop him…" A hard lump formed in her throat as the memories started to emerge. The fear she saw in Michael's face, the sound of him screaming her name over and over…

Sam reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Calm down, Fi. We're going to get him back."

Her shoulders straightened as she got out of the bed. Someone had stolen Michael from her, and she wasn't about to sit around and do nothing. That wasn't her style, and this was Michael. She would kill to get him back.

Sam didn't like the look in her eyes. "Fi…"

Waving a hand, she knelt down and reached under the bed, where she kept her favorite weapons.

"Fiona, what are you doing? You can't just go all Rambo. We don't even know who took him yet!"

"I'll find out." She strapped her Walther to her ankle, and her H&K compact with the silver slide to her thigh.

Getting out of his chair, Sam knelt down and grasped her arm. Then he pulled her to her feet, and he w as caught off guard by the murderous look in her green eyes. "Just calm down and think about this for a second, Fi. We don't know who took him, or where they took him. We don't even know why. Before we go on a shooting rampage, we need to figure that out." And they needed to do it quick, or Fiona would wind up blowing up half of Miami to find him.

Fiona's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Let go of me, Sam."

Wisely he released her arm, and she went back to arming herself. "Fiona…"

When she was finished, she got back to her feet. "Sam, someone took Michael from me. And I _will_ get him back, no matter what I have to do."

He sighed. "I know." He knew just what Michael meant to her.

"Good. Then don't try to stop me."

"I'm not. I'm going to help you."

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Michael's head throbbed as he slowly returned to consciousness. His mouth was dry, and he couldn't move his arms or legs. He tried to speak, but something was in his mouth, preventing him from making a sound. He fought hard not to panic. Where was he? More importantly, where was Fiona?

The last thing he remembered, someone was dragging him out of the closet that Fiona had hid him in. He had heard her collapse, and he'd screamed her name over and over until a sweet-smelling cloth was placed over his face and he knew no more.

Slowly he opened his eyes, but as usual, darkness greeted him. He tentatively moved his head from side to side.

A door swung open, and he slammed his eyes shut again as pain shot through his skull.

"Hey, kid. How are you feelin'?"

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Fiona shook her head as she moved around Michael's old bedroom. Thanks to Sam, Madeline had been whisked away to an undisclosed location, despite her spirited protests. Both Sam and Fiona wanted to keep her safe, and they knew that Michael would have agreed.

Sam stepped into the room. "Find anything?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Fiona, we're going to find him."

"How do you know that, Sam? How?" she demanded, stalking up to him. Even though he was twice as big as her, he visibly shirked away from her rage.

"Because…we have to. We'll find him."

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The voice sent a cold shiver down Michael's spine, and he tried to breathe as normally as possible as the man slowly approached him. He couldn't see, but he could hear very well. A subtle cologne hit his nose, and it was vaguely familiar. But he still couldn't remember, and he swallowed a groan of frustration. What was going on? Where was Fiona? Was she okay? He had to get back to her.

"Don't be rude, kid." The man reached out and removed the gag from Michael's mouth, allowing him to breathe freely. "I'm your friend."

"Who…?" Michael gasped, glad to be rid of the gag.

"You really did take a nasty blow, huh? Must've, if you don't remember me."

The younger man could only sit there helplessly.

"You and I are very old friends. We met when you were just a kid, and I took you under my wing. I've been looking for you." His expression shifted to one of concern. "After you were hurt, I couldn't find you right away. But I did. Like I always told you, I'll always come for you."

There was still no verbal response from Michael, but the older man didn't seem irritated by that. He continued to talk as he untied Michael's legs.

"Sorry I had to tie you up. I didn't know what your state of mind was, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself or anyone else here."

Michael finally looked hopeful. "Is Fiona here?" His voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Fiona?" He barked out a laugh. "Kid, Fiona Glenanne and Sam Axe are the ones responsible for your injuries!"

"But… you…that can't be right…"

"It is. I had to throw a gas canister into the room to get you out of there. Fiona Glenanne is a very dangerous woman, and she probably would have killed me if I hadn't knocked her out first. It was the only way I could get you away from there safely." He produced a water bottle and urged Michael to drink out of it.

Michael swallowed a few sips gratefully. "She wasn't going to hurt me," he argued.

"Not yet, anyway." The older man went over to a desk in the corner of the room and picked up a file, then carried it back to Michael's chair. "I'm telling you, she's bad news." He freed Michael's hands, then handed him the file.

Michael gripped the file tightly. "I can't see…"

"Oh. Right." The older man took the file back and opened it. "I guess I'll just have to summarize it for you." He cleared his throat. "Fiona Glenanne, born to Aidan and Colleen Glenanne. She's the third-oldest, and only surviving girl. Her sister and the youngest of the Glenanne children, Claire Glenanne, was murdered when they were teenagers. This almost drove Fiona crazy, and it lead her to join the IRA. She became an expert in guerilla warfare, and she has taken countless lives."

"What…?" That couldn't be true. That was not the same woman who had taken care of him, comforted him and reassured him.

"Yeah. Since coming to Miami, she has set off dozens of explosions and been involved in dozens of arms deals with some very shady characters. She's not good news, kid."

"But… I _know_ her…"

"You know what she told you, Michael. The woman is trouble, and the moment you cross her path, she'd kill you, too."

"Why…?"

"Because she can." He took the file and tucked it under his arm. Then he gently squeezed Michael's shoulder. "I'm just glad I was able to get you out of there. Are you hungry?"

Michael shook his head numbly.

"Okay. Well, there's a bed over there. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll tell you more tomorrow." The man went to the door.

As he started to go, Michael lifted his head. "Wait."

The older man turned. "What is it, Michael?"

"What's your name?"

He smiled widely, revealing his teeth.

"Just call me Larry."

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After hours of searching with no results, Fiona and Sam finally left Madeline's home. They got into the charger, and for once Fiona didn't argue with Sam about who drove. She simply slid into the passenger's seat, which told Sam a lot about her current state of mind. It wasn't good.

They drove back to the loft in near-silence. When Sam parked, Fiona got out of the car and climbed the stairs that led up to the loft. She let herself inside and immediately proceeded to call every one of her contacts.

Sam knew that Fiona was upset, but he was reluctant to leave her alone. He sat in the Charger for a while before finally getting out and going upstairs. Fiona was in the kitchen, and he called out to her.

"Fi, I'm heading out. I have something I need to take care of."

Fiona impatiently waved him off, and he lingered at the door before finally leaving the loft.

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The next morning, Michael breathed slowly as he laid in the bed. He didn't know what to believe. Larry spoke as though he was telling the truth, but the first time he woke up after his injury, Fiona had been right there. She had answered every one of his questions, and she had held him to her in the deepest part of the night. He had instinctively trusted her.

But some part of him trusted Larry, too.

Absently he rubbed his temple. If Larry was right, Fiona had taken lives. Innocent lives. But there had to be a reason other than getting revenge for her dead sister. He had to talk to her.

The door opened again. "Rise and shine, kid!"

Michael turned away from the voice.

"Oh, don't be like that. I have breakfast for you."

His stomach growled, betraying him.

"You're hungry. Sit up and have something to eat. I made it myself."

Slowly Michael sat up.

"Uh oh. I know that look. You've been thinking." Larry sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to talk to Fiona."

"Why would you want to do that? I rescued you from her!"

"But… she protected me. She kept me safe."

"From what?"

Michael hesitated. "She said…"

"She didn't give you an answer, did she? Because there was no one to protect you from. She just wanted to keep you stashed away so I wouldn't find you and get you out of there."

He started to feel sick. Fiona had never told him in-depth why she was keeping him in the loft and refusing to let him outside. Maybe Larry was right…

Larry placed a spoon in Michael's hand. "Eat up, kid. When you're done, we're getting you up and about."

"Why?"

"Because it's good for you."

Michael wasn't so sure he agreed with that thought.

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Fiona woke up early, surprised that she had slept at all. Her hand instinctively reached across the bed for Michael, and her eyes filled with tears when she remembered what had happened. But she quickly wiped her tears away and sat up in the bed. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, but she rolled out of the bed and showered quickly. Then she dressed and picked up several guns before she left the loft.

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After breakfast, Larry led Michael out of the bedroom and into the living room. "What else did Fiona tell you?" he asked, helping Michael sit on the couch.

"She said I worked for the government."

Larry snorted.

"What?"

"You did work for the government. You were a spy. But they burned you."

"What does that mean?"

"They burned you. They froze your accounts, left you high and dry in the middle of a dangerous foreign country, then dumped you in Miami. I guess they figured that because your mom lives there, you'd be happy. But you couldn't stand your mom."

"What?"

"Yeah. In fact, the first thing you wanted to do was get the hell out of there. But you had no money or means to get out."

Michael leaned back against the couch, absorbing the new information.

"Your country betrayed you and dropped you like a hot potato."

"But…why?"

"Because men like us don't like taking orders from suits behind big desks. We do what's right, but they don't like how we do things."

"How do we do things?"

Larry grinned. "Don't worry, kid. Everything is going to be real clear very soon."

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The first person Fiona went to was her former boyfriend and gunrunner, Armand. As much as she despised him, he was very-well connected and could help her track whoever had taken Michael from her.

And when she found them, they would suffer.

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Unbeknownst to Fiona, Sam had also started putting making calls and talking with people who had their ears to the ground. He was certain Fiona was doing the same, but being a SEAL, his friends were less…shady. They also had deep ties and the ability to track anything or anyone. Sooner or later, someone would know something. He knew that much.

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Michael sat back on the couch as he listened to Larry speak. He couldn't see the man's face, but Larry seemed so sure and confident as he told Michael stories of their supposed past. People they had helped, children they had rescued… It seemed he had a tale for everything. But was it the truth, or just that? A tale. He was also starting to wonder about Fiona and Sam. Larry said that Sam was a washed-up old boozehound who lived off of handouts from rich women, and that he was holding Michael back.

"What are you thinking about, kid?"

He ran his hand over his face. "How do you know so much about Fiona?"

"I have her INTERPOL file, and the rest I learned from you."

"From… me?"

"Of course, kid. Did you think I pulled it out of thin air?"

"No… I mean, I don't know…"

"Look, I know you're freaked out. It probably didn't help that I grabbed you without explaining things first. But there was no time for that. If I'd left you there any longer, there is no telling what might have set Fiona off and led her to kill you."

"She would… kill me?"

"Of course! Michael, she has killed anyone that she believed to have been involved in her sister's death, whether or not they actually had a hand in it. If you had done anything to cross her, like breaking up with her, she would have tossed you into the ocean and let the sharks take care of the rest." He knew he'd done that a few times, when he grew bored of causing 'heart attacks'.

"But…"

"She seemed like she cared about you?" Larry supplied. "Yeah, she's good at that."

Michael ran his hand through his thick hair as another flash of an image entered his mind. He was in his loft, and there was a woman sitting on a barstool, her feet bare and her auburn hair falling in waves around her shoulders. His gut clenched at the emotions that accompanied the image. Who was she?

"Kid? What is it?"

"Who is she?" he whispered.

"Who?"

"The woman I keep seeing! I keep… I keep seeing her."

Larry let out a sigh. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to tell you this…"

"Tell me what?" Michael suddenly stood, his expression a mix of trepidation, anger and heartache. "Tell me what, Larry?"

Larry stood and gently urged Michael to sit down again. "Kid, you were married."

"I was?"

"Yes. Oh, Sophie was a beauty. Beautiful blue-green eyes, long auburn hair, and a stunning smile. You really loved her."

Michael's stomach sank. "Was…?"

The older man sighed. "When you went to Ireland, you met Fiona. She was crazy about you, but when she found out you were married…"

The younger man felt sick. "What?"

"She killed your wife."

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Sam made his way over to the loft that night with dinner. "Fi? I have food," he yelled as he unlocked the front door and let himself in. There was no reply, and he made his way to the kitchen. "Fi?" He set the bags of food down on the counter.

There was still no response, and he quickly walked around. "Fiona?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and called her. But after a few rings, it went straight to voicemail.

Her phone was off.

Swearing loudly, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Then he walked back out of the loft, leaving the food abandoned on the counter.

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"So, what exactly do you want, Fiona?" Armand purred, raking his gaze over Fiona. He had agreed to meet her, but only over dinner.

Fiona ran her fingertip lightly along her knife. "Someone very dear to me has been abducted. I want you to help me find the bastard who did it."

Armand raised a dark brow curiously. "Do you have any idea who the abductor is?"

Reaching into her purse, Fiona withdrew a manila envelope. Then she slid it over to Armand. "I've narrowed it down to five people who have the means and motive. You're going to track them down."

He opened the envelope and sifted through the photos. Each photo was attached to a sheet of paper with information about the person. "Why do you want my help, Fiona?" Not that he wasn't eager to help her. For a price, of course.

"Because I know your reputation. And when we find this person, I want them dead."

"It sounds like you already know who it is."

"I have an idea." She waved her hand. "The last picture."

Armand flipped to the final picture. It was of an older man with a handsome smile. But he could see that that smile hid something dark. "Larry Sizemore…" His eyes narrowed. "It says he's dead."

"He's very good at faking his death, and he has an unhealthy obsession with Michael."

"Michael… as in your boyfriend?"

Fiona took a drink of her wine. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course not. But my fee just went up."

"Whatever you want, Armand, you'll get."

With a wicked grin, Armand held up his wineglass in a toast. "It's always a pleasure working with you, Fiona."

Fiona just smiled.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Oooh, that Larry! Just lyin' and being a bastard all over, huh? LMAO. Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Please review while I go find more aloe vera. There just might be a sunburned Michael story in the works... *evil laughter*


	8. Close Combat

Update! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Hey, kid."

Michael raised his head at the familiar voice. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but it felt like forever. Though he wasn't sure why he was in a rush to go anywhere else. If Larry was to be believed, his wife was dead, and the woman who had claimed to care so much for him killed her.

Larry strolled into the room, his eyes trained on Michael. "You've been moping around for three days, kid. Enough."

The younger man scowled.

"Come on." He carefully pulled Michael to his feet, then released his arm. "We're going to do a training exercise."

"Training…? What are you talking about?"

"Trust me, kid. This is going to help you." Larry positioned himself beside Michael. "Hit me."

Now he was even more confused. "What?"

"Hit me. Take a swing."

"Why?"

"Don't ask why! Just do it." Larry moved around the younger man. "Come on. Hit me!"

His words echoed in Michael's head, and without thinking, Michael's fist shot out and made contact with Larry's mouth.

Brushing the blood away from his split lip, Larry grinned wickedly, his eyes dancing.

"Good job, kid. Again."

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Fiona heaved a sigh as she unlocked the door to the loft and let herself in. She had been searching for Michael nonstop for three days, with no success. Armand had also sent people out, but she had yet to hear anything.

Her footsteps seemed deafening as she made her way to the bed, their bed. God, she missed him. Reaching down, she ran her hand lightly over the comforter. Not knowing where he was or if he was okay was killing her. Was he being taken care of? Was he eating? What about his head injury?

Did he miss her?

She sat down on the foot of the bed, deflated. She hadn't allowed herself to cry since he had been taken. Not even when she was alone in the loft and her head was buried in his pillow so that she could smell the faint traces of him that lingered.

No, she wouldn't allow herself to cry. She couldn't.

Getting to her feet, she began pulling out every weapon she owned, including the ones she had carried with her during her search. She laid them out on the floor and retrieved jars of polish and old rags. Keeping her hands busy would keep her mind busy as well.

Wrong.

The more she polished, the more she thought about Michael. And the more she thought about him, the more she worried, the harder her hands moved.

Finally she stopped when she felt a tear roll down her cheek. But anger was simmering in her, and before she could stop herself, she launched herself off of the floor and snatched one of her snow globes from the shelf Michael had built for her. Then she drew back and let it go, deriving a small amount of satisfaction from the sound the glass made as it shattered against the wall.

She stood there, her chest heaving and her fingers twitching. She needed Michael back. She needed him like she needed the sun to rise again, like her heart needed to beat. Her world was falling down around her, crushing her, and she knew no way to stop it except to find Michael.

Slowly, methodically, she began putting her weapons away, leaving out only a select few. When she was finished, she gathered the weapons she'd left out and walked out of the loft.

The moon was beaming down on her as she walked down the stairs, but she didn't care what time of night it was. Michael was out there, somewhere, and she was going to find him.

She had to.

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Across town, Madeline crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and pulled out another with shaky fingers. She had seen Sam a handful of times since her son was snatched, and she had seen Fiona even less than she had Sam. Sam assured her it was because Fiona was looking for Michael, but she needed to see the younger woman and hear that for herself.

She needed to know that Fiona hadn't given up on Michael.

Madeline took a long drag from her cigarette and looked out the window at the moon shining so brightly in the night time sky.

"Where are you, Michael?"

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In another part of town, Sam sat alone on a barstool, nursing a glass of whiskey. Women had been approaching him all night, something he normally would have taken great delight in, but not tonight. Tonight his thoughts were on his missing best friend and the woman who was completely lost without him. He had been reaching out to every contact, to every cop, to every low level drug dealer in Miami, but nothing had panned out. Whoever took him was smart, and as time passed, the feeling of dread in Sam's gut intensified. If this had been some kind of ransom, whoever had taken Mikey surely would have made contact by now. And if it was someone with a grudge, they would have found his body.

No, whoever had taken him wanted him alive. For what, Sam couldn't figure out. Unless…

Sam suddenly slammed his glass down and threw some cash on the bar. Then he jumped off of the stool and left the bar, stumbling into the muggy Miami heat.

There was only one person who could have done this, who would want Mikey alive for this long. He just prayed that he was right

If he was wrong, it was only a matter of time before they would find Mikey's body.

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After dinner, Michael sat in his bed, his fingers absently going through his hair. His muscles were sore from the workout Larry had insisted upon, but afterward, Larry had seemed extremely pleased. And he wasn't sure why, but Michael wanted his approval.

He breathed in slowly, then froze as a scene began to play out in his mind's eye, like a movie that he couldn't stop. He was at a kitchen table, and there was a woman sitting beside him, looking half-frustrated and half-amused. There was a large gift in his hand.

"_It's a bayonet."_

"_Used during the first World War for close fighting."_

"…_thanks."_

"_Well, someone once told me that caring for you is like trench warfare. So I thought you should arm yourself."_

The scene was over just as quickly as it started, and he was left with a strange mixture of love, devotion and confusion. The woman he kept seeing was absolutely beautiful, and again he wondered if she was his wife, or the woman Larry claimed killed her.

Slowly he laid down, curling up on his right side.

What he needed was answers, and he had no idea how to get the real ones.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Awww...poor everybody. LOL. The quote at the end is from Question And Answer, such an awesome ep! Make sure to stop by my profile to check out my newest poll! I also joined twitter yesterday, and am currently stalking Jeffrey and Gabrielle. LMFAO. Follow me MionaShulesLove. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	9. Interlude

A very short update, because I am evil! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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After hours on the phone talking to old buddies, Sam finally went back to the loft. It was late and he wasn't sure if Fiona would be there, but he had to check. She wasn't answering her phone.

He parked the Caddy by the stairs, then hurried up the stairs and into the lift. "Fi?" he called.

"Kitchen, Sam."

He hurried into the kitchen in time to see Fiona holding a bottle of whiskey in her hand. "I may have a lead."

It took a moment for it to register, but when it did, she slammed the bottle down. "Let's go."

He didn't have to be told twice.

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Their destination was two hours away, and the ride there was mostly silent. Fiona didn't care where or how Sam got the information. All that mattered was whether or not it panned out. If it did and they found Michael, she would be beyond ecstatic. But if it turned out to be nothing… well, she didn't let her mind even linger on the thought. She had to hope and pray they were about to find Michael.

Sam was lost in his own thoughts during the trip. The source he'd gotten the tip from wasn't the most reliable, but when it really counted, he usually came through. So Sam allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, they were about to get Mikey and take him home.

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, affording them plenty of darkness to hide for at least another fifteen minutes or so. Sam brought the Caddy to an easy stop outside of a modest house on a secluded street.

Fiona looked around when he stopped. "He's here?"

"That's what my guy thinks."

"Good." Fiona pulled out her Walther and squeezed it reassuringly. Then she reached for the handle of the door.

"Whoa, Fi, what are you doing?"

Fiona looked at him as though he was completely insane. "I'm going to get Michael," she said slowly.

"Don't you think we should come up with some kind of plan?"

"I have a plan." Fiona shoved the door open. "I'm going to get Michael." And with that, she got out of the Caddy and strolled up the driveway that led to the house.

Sam swore and got out of the car as well. Huffing, he chased after Fiona, catching her by the arm just before she reached the door. "Fi!"

Spinning around, Fiona drove her fist into Sam's gut. Then she exploded into the house, gun in hand.

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Michael startled awake, his heart pounding. He had dreamt about the woman again, and every time it did, it hurt more and more.

Sitting up in the bed, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. There was another strange noise, and he turned his head. "Larry?"

No response.

Confused, he carefully got out of the bed and stumbled across the floor. Another banging sound reached his ears.

What the hell was going on?

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Inside of the house, Fiona searched the living room. There was no furniture, not even a light bulb, and it was clear that no one had lived there in a long time. It was the perfect spot to hide a kidnap victim. She immediately began searching the house for anything out of the ordinary.

Sam finally came inside a few minutes later, his hand on his gut. That woman packed a hell of a punch for someone so little. "Fi?"

Finally he found her in the hall. "Fiona…"

"Shh," Fiona hissed. "I heard something."

Sam looked around. It didn't look like anyone had been in the house in months. But he trusted Fiona. Pulling his own gun, he followed her.

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Fumbling along the wall, Michael found a door and slowly opened it. "Larry?" He eased out of the room, one hand on the wall to support himself.

There was another noise, this time much closer, and his gut twisted.

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Spotting another hallway, Fiona crept down it, her heart pounding furiously. She could hear Sam directly behind her, and that was reassuring. Though he wasn't Michael, she trusted him to have her back. They would protect each other.

"Fiona."

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Hearing a soft voice, Michael stopped where he was.

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Fiona came to a sudden stop, and so did Sam.

"Sam…"

To Be Continued...

A/N: *evil laughter* Review!


	10. The Fog Lifts

Sorry about the late update! I just finished up the semester and took on a babysitting job, so things should be calming down around here. On the upside, I recently watched Blair Witch Project 2, and our boy Jeffrey gets nekkid in it! *evil grin* Go check it out! Enjoy this update!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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The hallway was empty, and Fiona let out a miserable sigh. "He's not here, Sam."

Sam reached out and laid a comforting hand on Fiona's arm. "We'll find him, Fi."

She wished she felt as confident as he sounded.

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Michael felt his way along the wall until his hand felt the smooth metal of a doorknob. He hesitated. What was beyond that door. A bathroom? Closet? The outside?

Finally he turned the knob slowly, and the warmth of the sunlight warmed his skin.

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Finally giving up, Fiona and Sam left the house and trudged back to the Charger. Sam was scowling.

"I'm going to have a word with my informant."

Fiona didn't respond. Sam hated the miserable look on her face. There was nothing he wanted more than to find Mike, if only so Sam could bring him back to Fiona. They were meant to be together, and Fiona wouldn't be okay until they found Michael.

Sighing, Sam turned his head and looked down the street, at the long line of houses. Two houses down, a door opened and a man emerged from inside.

The sun was bright, and Sam reflexively shielded his eyes so he could see. As the other man slowly moved further from the house, Sam's heart began to race.

It couldn't be…

The man eased forward, and Sam finally caught a glimpse of his face.

"Fiona!"

Fiona swung around to see Sam bolt across the yard. "Sam?" She ran after him. "Sam!"

She was just within reach of him when she finally saw what he was seeing, and she couldn't contain a gasp of shock. "Michael!" With a speed she didn't know she could achieve, she raced past Sam and across the lawn.

"Michael!"

Hearing his name, Michael froze. That was the voice that had haunted his dreams ever since Larry found him. But confliction filled him. Was she his girlfriend as she claimed? Or was she the killer of his wife, as Larry claimed?

Finally Fiona reached the porch where Michael was standing. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Michael…" There was a strange expression on his face, and she inched forward with her hand out until she finally was able to touch him.

Michael froze when she touched him, and his body reacted. Grabbing her wrist, he spun her around and wrapped his arm around her neck.

Fiona froze, confused and for the first time afraid of Michael. "Michael," she gasped out.

Sam came barreling up the steps. "What the hell are you doing, Mike?" he yelled. The need to protect Fiona kicked in, and he wrenched her free of Michael's grasp. Michael immediately turned and swung, but Sam was able to duck. He raced behind his friend and grabbed him in a choke hold.

"Be careful, Sam!" Fiona demanded, rubbing her own neck. She had no idea what was wrong with Michael, but she knew that Larry was the reason for it.

Sam nodded, applying pressure until Michael lost consciousness. Then he lifted his best friend's limp form into his arms and carried him to the Charger. Fiona trailed behind him.

What the hell did Larry do to him?

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Instead of going to Madeline's home or even the loft, Sam got on the phone with some of his connections while Fiona drove. He hadn't wanted to, but he'd had no choice but to drug his friend to keep him from waking up and harming himself or Fiona. By the time they were close to the loft, Sam had secured a safe house. They stopped at the loft long enough to get a few things for Fiona and Michael. Then they drove to the safe house. Sam called Madeline on the way and told her to go stay with a friend. He was grateful when she didn't argue with him.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at the safe house. Fiona parked and went to get their bags, while Sam got Michael out of the backseat. Fiona looked up at the house as they headed inside. It was a nice house, fairly secluded, and there were plenty of spots that would be excellent to shoot from.

Once inside, Sam laid Michael on the couch and gave him another dose of sedatives. Then he turned to Fiona. "We'll be safe here."

Fiona crossed her arms. "For how long?" They had no idea when Michael would regain his memory, or his sight. And even though he was confused, he still needed to be protected.

"For as long as we need to be here." He wouldn't let anything happen to either of his friends, even if that meant tracking Larry down and killing him with his bare hands.

Sighing, she nodded. "Okay. Then we should get him upstairs."

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When Larry got to the house, right away he felt that something was off. He reached for his gun as he moved further into the house.

"Kid? Where are you?"

There was no response, and he quickly moved down the hall, to the bedroom where he had been keeping Michael. Hopefully he was just asleep.

He pushed the door open, and his blood began to boil when he didn't see Michael anywhere in the room.

"Son of a bitch!"

Turning around, he ran back out of the room. He had an idea of what was going on, and if he was right, there would be a lot of blood spilled very soon.

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After settling Michael in the bed upstairs, Fiona and Sam went back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Sam looked in the refrigerator and smiled. His contact had stocked the entire kitchen, and he grabbed a beer.

Fiona watched him, but her mind was on the man upstairs. Her throat still ached from Michael's earlier grip, but she couldn't be mad at him. Larry must have told him something terrible. As soon as he regained consciousness, she would have to figure out how to fix whatever damage had been done.

Sam drank half of his beer, then looked at Fiona. "Want to talk about it, Fi?"

"I'm just thinking about Michael." She absently touched her neck.

Seeing her touch her neck, he reached into the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. Then he wrapped them in a towel and gently held it against her neck.

She started to pull away, but Sam gently grasped her arm. Sighing, she resigned herself and allowed him to tend to her bruises.

"What are you planning to do when he wakes up?"

Fiona shrugged slightly. "Talk to him. Larry must have told him something. He never would have done that otherwise."

"Are you sure you can handle him?"

"Of course I can, Sam." Sighing, she finally pulled away and leaned against the counter.

Sam nodded and resumed nursing his beer.

"I'm going to check on him." Without waiting for Sam's response, Fiona put down the frozen peas and hurried upstairs, to the bedroom where they had settled Michael. Michael was still unconscious in the bed, but Fiona couldn't resist running her fingers through his thick hair. Despite the fact that he'd bruised her throat, she was thankful to have him back with her, and she would die before she let Larry get his slimy hands on him again.

He stirred and groaned softly under her touch.

"Shh, Michael…" Leaning over, she kissed her forehead.

When her lips made contact with his skin, he settled down again and let out a soft sigh.

Fiona smiled. He was back…

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A few hours later, Fiona finally came back downstairs. Sam was sitting on the couch in the living room, a beer in his hand as he aimlessly channel-surfed. Fiona sat down beside him and crossed her legs.

Sam looked at her when she sat down beside him. "How's our boy?"

"Still sleeping."

Sam nodded. "He needs the rest."

He turned his attention back to the TV, but a few moments later, Fiona spoke again.

"I'm worried about him, Sam."

Setting his beer down, Sam turned the TV off. Then he turned toward Fiona, his eyes caring and honest. "He's going to be okay, Fi." Michael would be okay, because he had to be.

"How can you know that?"

"Because I do." He shifted closer to her. "Look, Fi, Mikey's my best friend. And he's the closest thing to a brother that I've got." He gave her a smile. "And because he loves you, you're a part of him. So I guess you could say that I see you as my sister."

Fiona's mouth relaxed into a smile. "That's sweet, Sam."

"Yeah, well…" Sam extended an arm.

Taking his invitation, she leaned into him for a comforting hug. She and Sam fought like hell with each other, but they would both fight like hell _for _each other any day.

He hugged her tight and rested his head lightly against hers. It would be hard, but as long as they had each other, they could get Mikey through this. Everything would work out.

It had to.

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When Michael finally woke up again, he wasn't sure where he was. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. He blinked slowly in the vain hope that he would be able to see, but just as before, he couldn't. Moving slowly, he sat up and pushed away the blankets that covered him. He expected to hear Larry's voice, but then he remembered what had happened the day before, and he tensed. Where was he?

The soft sound of tentative footsteps reached his sharp ears. "Who's there?" he called out quietly.

"Hey, buddy. It's Sam."

Michael remembered this man, but he was still full of conflicting emotions. Who could he trust?

He suddenly felt someone's presence directly beside him, and he tensed again.

"It's okay. Thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some yogurt." Sam carefully placed the yogurt and spoon in Michael's hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Head hurts," Michael finally responded.

"Side effect of the drugs. We didn't want you hurting yourself, so I gave you something to knock you out." Sam watched his friend's confused expression, and he felt terrible. How were they going to help Mikey get back to normal?

"Oh." Michael slowly pushed the spoon into the yogurt, then brought it up to his lips. But before he even tasted it, he hesitated.

"It's okay, pal," Sam assured him, as though he could read the younger man's confused mind. "Eat it, and we'll see about getting something more solid into you a little later."

Finally Michael took a small bite of the yogurt. Sam smiled, pleased. Maybe he was on the road to recovery sooner than anticipated.

Once the cup of yogurt was emptied, Michael handed it to Sam. He was still upset and confused, but he found himself still trusting this man, despite everything that Larry had said. If this man wanted him dead, he would be dead already…wouldn't he?

Sam took the cup and spoon. "Try to get some rest, Mikey. It'll help your headache."

Michael nodded and stretched out on his side, away from Sam. Maybe when he woke up, things would be more clear.

Sam watched Michael for a moment before he slipped out of the bedroom. Fiona was waiting for him in the hall. "Hey, Fi."

"How is he?"

"He seems okay, physically." They walked downstairs together and into the kitchen. Sam grabbed a beer while Fiona sat down at the table and watched him.

Opening his beer, Sam took a long, slow drink. Then he looked at Fiona. "You okay, Fi?"

"I'll be okay when he's okay, Sam."

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That night, Sam and Fiona retired to their respective bedrooms. Fiona's was beside Michael's so she could get to him quickly if she needed to. Sam's room was down the hall, but close enough that he could be in Michael's room in moments. Neither Sam nor Fiona were particularly tired, but it was late and they at least needed to try to sleep in case Larry somehow found them.

Fiona had just drifted off to sleep when she heard her name being called. Instantly she was wide awake, and she sat up in her bed, listening intently. The entire house was silent, and after a few moments, she was convinced that she was hearing things. Then she heard it again.

"Fiona!"

Michael… Grabbing her Walther, Fiona flung herself out of her bed and threw her door open. Then she ran into Michael's room. "Michael?"

He was sitting up in the bed, his unseeing eyes open and wide.

Fiona quickly searched the room, then made her way to the bed, tucking her gun away. "Michael…?" She reached out and gently placed her hand against his cheek. "It's okay, Michael."

"I remember," he gasped out, and for a moment, she was unable to process what he was saying.

"What?"

"I remember!" Twisting around, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto the bed. Then he buried his face in her chest, his broad shoulders shaking. "I remember…"

"You remember?" Her arms went around him, holding him in a comforting embrace.

He nodded into her chest.

Letting out a slow breath, she rested her head against his and tried not to let her tears fall. Her hand began gently stroking his dark hair.

"Welcome back, Michael."

Sam came barreling into the room a moment later, his piece in his hand. He had heard Michael calling out, and he came in expecting to find him injured or worse. He wasn't expecting to see Michael wrapped up in Fiona's arms, but it was a very welcome sight. He tucked his gun away with a relieved sigh.

Fiona looked up, and Sam met her eyes. They shared a relieved smile before Fiona returned her attention to the man in her arms.

He watched them for a long moment before slowly backing out of the room. Fiona could handle things from there.

He was just grateful to see the smile in her eyes again.

To Be Continued...

A/N: *evil smile* Not done yet... Review!


	11. Formidable

Hey, everybody! So sorry it's taken me so long to update this, but with tonight's premiere, I felt inspired! Hope everyone enjoys this!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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They sat there on the bed for a while, not speaking, just holding each other. Michael shook slightly as he held onto Fiona. He had awoken in this strange house, and it had only taken a few moments for the memories to come crashing down on him like waves against the sandy beach. He remembered everything, including Larry abducting him, and that made his blood boil. He knew that Fiona and Sam hadn't willingly let it happen, but he needed to know exactly what had gone on.

Fiona struggled with the tears of joy that threatened to fall down her cheeks. Michael remembered her, and now he was holding onto her as though his life depended on it. She finally had him back.

Finally she pulled back just enough so that she could see his handsome face. "How do you feel?" she finally whispered.

"My head is killing me." He reached out unsteadily and touched her face. "Where are we?"

"We're at a safe house. We brought you here after we saved you from Larry."

His fingers made their way into her hair. How could he have forgotten, even for a moment, who she was and how much she meant to him?

Letting out a deep breath, Fiona gently guided Michael's head to rest against her shoulder. Then she kissed his forehead. "Everything is going to be okay now, Michael."

He didn't respond verbally, but he pressed himself even closer to her and closed his eyes.

After a while, Fiona realized that he was sleeping. Moving carefully so she didn't disturb him, she guided him back against the pillows. Then she curled herself around him protectively and held him tight. No harm would come to him while he was in her arms.

No harm.

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The next morning, Sam was in the kitchen cooking breakfast for the three of them. Luckily the kitchen had been fully stocked before they arrived, courtesy of the friend who had lent them the house for as long as they needed it. Sam was glad that the friend was also very discreet and trustworthy. He wouldn't gamble with his best friend's life by going somewhere that was potentially unsafe.

He was in the middle of slicing some fresh fruit for Fiona when he sensed that he wasn't alone. He looked up to see Fiona guiding Michael slowly down the stairs. He put his knife down. "Well, good morning, lovebirds!"

Fiona looked over her shoulder. "Good morning, Sam." She helped Michael down the last few steps, then guided him into the kitchen.

Sam watched as Fiona helped Michael sit down at the table. "Hope you're both hungry. I made pancakes, bacon, eggs, and I have fresh fruit for you, Fi!"

Fiona looked at the impressive display, and her stomach growled. "It looks great."

"Eat up." He placed several plates on the table.

Fiona smiled and glanced at Michael. "What do you want to eat?" She didn't give him the option of not eating anything. He had only consumed yogurt since they rescued him from Larry, and he needed something more substantial.

Michael shifted uncomfortably. "Just a pancake."

Fiona couldn't resist gently touching his hair. "Okay." Grabbing a plate, she put several pancakes and pieces of bacon on it. She added a little syrup, then placed the plate in front of Michael. "Do you need any help?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Okay…" Fiona grabbed a plate for herself.

Sam joined them at the table a few minutes later. He noticed that Michael was eating, albeit slowly and somewhat awkwardly, and Fiona was watching him as she ate her own food. But he was there, and that was all that mattered. Sam couldn't help smiling.

Fiona glanced at Sam. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy to have our boy back."

She watched him suspiciously, but he was right. In the darkest moments during Michael's disappearance, Fiona had been utterly terrified that she would never see him again. Her mind kept flashing back to Ireland and those days after Michael had left her alone and cold in their bed. Both times she had been afraid for him, and both times she had cried as images of his body raced through her mind. Without thinking, she reached out and gently touched Michael's arm, assuring herself that he was still okay and with her.

Michael turned his head in her direction. "Fi?"

"Sorry," she murmured apologetically. She caressed his skin lightly before removing her hand and returning her attention to her breakfast.

But suddenly she didn't have much of an appetite.

After breakfast, Sam gathered the dirty plates and piled them in the sink, then put all of the leftovers into the fridge. Fiona helped Michael into the living room before she joined Sam at the sink.

Sam looked at Fiona when she appeared at his side. "You okay, sister?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "It's been a rough few days, and Mikey still isn't quite himself." He wouldn't be until he regained his vision, if he ever did.

"He's fine, Sam." Fiona bristled at the implication. Michael was safe with them, and he had regained his memory. The next step was helping him regain his eyesight, but that would have to wait until she eliminated Larry as a threat to Michael.

"Right." Sam focused on the pile of dirty dishes in front of him, and they slipped into silence as they both worried over Michael.

In no time the kitchen was clean again, and Fiona wiped her hands against her jeans while Sam grabbed a beer. They both had their own ways of dealing with this. Fiona immersed herself in caring for Michael, and Sam had his beers. Maybe not the most effective coping strategies, but strategies nonetheless.

In the living room, Michael could hear Fiona and Sam moving about, and he sighed. He resented and loved Fiona for her patience and unwavering support. He hated that he needed it at all, but she had reaffirmed for him just what kind of woman she was.

Sighing, he leaned back into the couch and tried to focus on something, anything, except for the blackness that surrounded him.

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In Miami, Madeline hummed softly as she moved around her house. She had been cleaning for the past few days to distract herself, but now the house was spotless and she was still worried about her son and the woman she considered a daughter.

The last that she had heard from them, Fiona had called to tell her that they had found Michael, and that he was alive but still blind. It had been a huge struggle on Madeline's part not to pack up right then and drive to the house where Sam and Fiona had taken her oldest boy. But Fiona had insisted that she stay exactly where she was, to make sure that no one followed her to the safe house. Madeline had reluctantly agreed.

Grabbing her cigarettes, Madeline pulled one out and placed it between her lips before lighting it up. As she exhaled, she saw a shadow on the other side of the room, and her stomach tightened. Fiona had mentioned that she should go somewhere safe as well, but she had stubbornly refused. According to Fiona, the man who had taken Michael only wanted Michael. She would be fine, and she wanted to be close to home anyway in case Fiona or Michael needed her.

She took another drag, but a noise caused her to spin around. Her eyes widened.

A man in his late fifties gave her a charming smile. "Hello, Madeline."

"Who the hell are you?" Madeline demanded, wishing that she was closer to the flower pot where she had hid one of her son's smaller caliber guns.

"I'm an old friend of your son's, and I'm looking for him."

Madeline put on her best poker face. "Nate isn't here."

"Oh, I'm not looking for Nate. I'm looking for Michael. And I think you know exactly where he is."

She put her cigarette out. "Actually, I don't. I think his girlfriend took him on a surprise getaway." The man in front of her looked perfectly normal, but she had a bad feeling about him. And she always trusted her gut instincts when it came to people.

"That's cute. You're actually a pretty good liar. You see, I know that Michael suffered a serious head injury that left him temporarily blinded, so Fiona wouldn't just whisk him away for a romantic tryst."

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I have my ways." He gave her a deceptively charming smile.

Another man came up behind Madeline, and before she had a chance to cry out for help, a syringe was plunged into her neck. She stumbled and hit the floor.

Grinning widely, Larry grabbed her phone and scrolled through the numbers until he found what he was looking for. Then he hit the talk button and patiently waited.

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At the safe house, Michael was still sitting in the living room. Sam had left the house to get beer and yogurt, and Fiona had gone upstairs for a quick shower after Michael had convinced her that he would be fine alone.

Fiona's phone suddenly went off, and Michael, assuming it was Sam, hesitated before reaching over and feeling around until his fingers closed around it. Then he brought it up to his ear. "Yeah?"

Larry smiled. "Hey, kid."

Michael almost dropped the phone. "Larry… What the hell do you want?"

"I see that you've regained your memory. Good for you. You weren't yourself."

"And you lied to me," the younger man seethed. "I could have hurt Fiona!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the bad guy, blah blah blah. We know this. You know what else I know? I know that your mom wears Trinity perfume."

Michael's stomach clenched. Larry had never seen his mom. That meant… "You lay a hand on her, and I will rip you apart," he snarled.

"Temper, temper, kid. I don't want to hurt your mom. I just want to see you."

The younger man snorted. "That would be kind of hard, considering I don't know where the hell I am."

"I do."

Michael felt sick. That meant that Fiona and Sam were in trouble, too. "What do you want?"

"To see you," Larry repeated patiently. "I'll come to you, and I'll bring Mommy dearest with me."

"In exchange for…?"

"You."

Michael swallowed hard. He knew that he was walking right into a trap, but he couldn't let anything bad happen to his mom. He had been protecting her all of his life, and he wasn't about to stop now. "Fine."

"Great!" Larry enthused. "But one more thing… if you say a word to Sam or Fiona, not only will I kill your mom, but I will track Nate and Ruth down, too. Their son's name is Charlie, right?"

Trapped, Michael spoke quietly. "I won't say anything." But he knew by agreeing to that, he was potentially signing Fiona and Sam's death warrants.

"Smart boy. I'll see you soon."

The line went dead, and the phone slid out of Michael's hand, onto the cushion beside him.

What the hell was he going to do?

Fiona came downstairs ten minutes later, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. She sat down beside Michael and smiled at him. "Hey… how are you feeling?"

Silently begging for her forgiveness, Michael spoke coldly. "God damn it, can't you just leave me alone for ten minutes?"

Fiona was taken aback. She knew that Michael might leash out, but she hadn't been prepared for it. "Michael…"

"What part of leave me alone don't you understand?" he snarled. "Get it through your head. I don't want you anywhere near me!"

Her own temper began to bubble up. "Do not-"

"What? Do not what?" he egged, turning in the direction that her voice had come from. Every word he said was tearing him up, but he had to get her out of the house, where she would be safe. "You're so desperate for time with me that you're being a nursemaid. I don't need a damn nurse! In fact, I don't need you!"

Fiona knew that he was angry, and that he didn't really mean what he was saying. But it hurt nonetheless. And since she couldn't take her aggressions out on him physically, she was left with only one option.

"Fine. I'll go."

"Good!"

She watched his face for any sign of remorse or regret, but there was nothing. Finally she walked out of the house, slamming the door behind herself.

Michael flinched when he heard the door slam, but he knew it was for the best. This way, she would be safe.

Outside, Fiona walked along the beach, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she fought her tears. Damn him! She knew that he had to get his hurt and frustrations out somehow, but she hadn't been expecting that. So she walked and walked.

Back in the house, Michael leaned back against the couch and rubbed his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, Fi."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Now, for some reason, I can't remember if Larry ever met Madeline or not, so for this story, I'm pretending that they haven't met. Thanks again for reading, everyone, and enjoy tonight's season premiere! Let's go, Michael and Fiona!


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